


i cannot let you see my hurts (they run too deep and you too will be lost to me)

by namedawesome (davethetennant)



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Protective Chloe Decker, Sad Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 16:03:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14622171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/davethetennant/pseuds/namedawesome
Summary: Lucifer sat at his piano. The aftermath of his tantrum, more of a meltdown, really, strewn about the room. Glass covered the floor, couches overturned, alcohol seeping into the rugs. He was just numb now. Everything he was feeling had spilled out of him the moment he sat down. His phone rang and distantly he answered it, voice rough and spirit battered.The Detective. She told him they had another case, he hadn't realized a day had passed since he last saw her, but any time with her even if it was borrowed was fine with him.





	i cannot let you see my hurts (they run too deep and you too will be lost to me)

Lucifer sat at his piano. The aftermath of his tantrum, more of a meltdown, really, strewn about the room. Glass covered the floor, couches overturned, alcohol seeping into the rugs. He was just numb now. Everything he was feeling had spilled out of him the moment he sat down. His phone rang and distantly he answered it, voice rough and spirit battered. 

The Detective. She told him they had another case, he hadn't realized a day had passed since he last saw her, but any time with her even if it was borrowed was fine with him. He told her he'd meet her at the scene, but she says she's on the way up. He disconnects the call after she asks if he's okay, not bothering to answer. He has to get dressed.

As he crosses the room, he steps in glass and shes too close. He tracks blood across the floor and doesn't even know its there.

The elevator dings as he's pulling on his vest. He hears her pause outside the elevator and call for him; she sounds worried so he hurries through putting on his socks and shoes. 

“Hello, Detective,” he greets as he makes his way to her. He walks uncaringly over the glass.

She just stares at him, brow furrowed with worry. He wants to smooth it away but knows that's not his place anymore, never really was in the first place. Instead he stares back at her, drinking her in like he hasn't had a drop in years. Even in her worry, she looks as perfect as she always does.

Her voice breaks through his haze, “Are you okay, Lucifer?” She looks like the sunshine had from inside the pearly gates, shining and beautiful. 

He barely hears the question and instead comments on the way her voice sounds around his name, “Perfect, as always, darling.”

“Where did this blood come from?” she asks him, pointing. His gaze follows her finger as she points. 

“Oh,” he says in surprise. He sits at the piano and pulls off one of his shoes and socks. He pulls a large sliver of glass from his foot and pulls them back on. He stands and leads her to the elevator. He knows that he's shocked her, which is why it’s so easy to get her in the elevator.

“Lucifer!” she exclaims as the doors close. “We need to take care of your foot!”

“Nonsense, Detective, I don't feel a thing,” he tells her. She gapes at him for the whole ride down. And stares at him worriedly as she drives him to the scene. 

He tries to act like his normal self, but he's more passive than anything. He stares at the body, only offering comments about the crime itself. None of his usual sass, just hollow observations.

He doesn't know how they get back to the station, but he's there, and Daniel is talking at him. Its awkward and stilted. The man seems worried but doesn't know how to show it. He looks up as the Detective enters his eyeline and offers her a pale imitation of his usual smirk. He knows it falls flat because she just stares at him, brows drawn down in a worried frown. 

The next thing he's aware of is Ella hugging him. He can’t bring himself to respond. He's barely even breathing as her arms wrap around him. She's telling him something but he can't hear her. He nods absently as she pulls away and she frowns at him, worried like the Detective. 

His foot is aching and he hisses in pain as he takes a step away from the lab tech. The Detective is suddenly at his side, leading him to sit in a chair and she sits in front of him. She pulls his foot into her lap and he vaguely hears her tell Ella, “I followed the blood from Dan's desk. I don't know how he's been walking on it all day; I'm really worried about him…”

“You shouldn't worry about me, Detective,” he says softly. He can't quite meet her gaze and he's not sure if its because of how numb he is or if he's afraid of what he'll see if he does. Instead, he watches her hands as she pulls off his sock and hears her quiet exclamation of 'Jesus, Lucifer!’ to which he numbly responds, “Two different people, love.”

The next thing he knows, she has a cloth held to his foot. He hopes he's not getting blood all over her and tells her as much. She just stares at him through worried eyes and sighs. She has Ella take over the mending of his foot, and comes to stand next to him. He looks up at her and she reaches down, placing her hand on his cheek. She's about to ask him what's wrong but before she can open her mouth, he leans into her hand, eyes sliding shut, a soft and desperate noise of contentment escapes him on a shaky breath. He feels his lips turn up in a sad smile, sure this is the last time she'll ever touch him. He'll wake up any moment now, he's sure.

He feels her surprise, and expects her to pull away. She doesn't. Instead she puts both hands on his face and strokes his cheeks with her thumbs. His breath catches in his chest and he feels his heart stutter. Oh, he thinks, this is real, she's real, and here and… Oh. One of her hands move to the back of his neck, her nails scraping softly against his nape, he reaches out and pulls her into his side. The side of his head rests against her stomach as she continues caressing his neck and face; every other breath catches in his lungs and breathing has never been as hard or as easy before. He becomes aware that he's shuddering each time her fingernails scrape against his scalp. Her hand is deeper in his hair than it had been. He doesn't mind as long as she keeps touching him.

He doesn't know how long they stay like that, but when she starts to pull away he whines involuntarily, but drops his arm away from her waist immediately. He shouldn't have touched her to begin with, he doesn't deserve the comfort. She pauses at the noise, and he imagines that she's frowning at him again. She keeps herself pressed into his side and slides the hand that was in his hair across his shoulders so that her arm is around him.

He inhales shakily at the contact and looks down at his foot. He wonders when his foot got back in his shoe. The Detective answers him (he wasn't aware he'd spoken aloud), “A while ago. I asked Ella to give us some privacy.” 

He hums in response but doesn't respond otherwise. A long moment passes, and his arm finds her waist again, his head resting against her. His breath still catches occasionally, not as often. She realizes it's because she's absently tracing nonsensical patterns on his shoulder. “Lucifer,” she gets his attention. He hums again. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing at the moment,” he responds, a shudder rolling down his spine as she brings her other hand to his face. She's trying to get him to look at her, but his eyes close at the contact and he can't quite breathe properly whenever she does it. She says his name again but he shakes his head and holds her hand against his face. Reverently, he places a kiss on the palm of her hand and pulls it away from his face, keeping his grip on it. 

He plays idly with her fingers and tells her, “I keep dreaming of losing you.” She doesn't say a word so he keeps talking. “Last night you were walking away from me and I had to watch you die, over and over. I couldn't wake up, but when I finally did… I wasn't thinking I suppose. I thought it was real, or I was stuck in the nightmare, that you were… so I… well, you saw my penthouse, darling… it usually isn't that bad, and I suppose if you'd waited a little longer to come and see me, I would've been better, more aware...” He sighed and shuddered again, her hand back in his hair, his perfectly groomed hair reverting back to his natural curls as she mussed them. “Shock, perhaps,” he said, still staring at their hands. “I thought I was hallucinating earlier, when you came by… didn't know I wasn't until this,” his hand ran up and down her side for a moment before he made himself stop. He would've pulled her into his lap if he thought she'd allow it, but this, what she was already giving him, was more than he ever thought he’d receive. 

She pulled her hand from his, and he thought she was going to pull away, but instead she placed it on the side of his face again. He started shaking uncontrollably and his breathing became uneven. She hushed him when he made a noise at the back of his throat. “You’re coming home with me tonight,” she told him. “Dan’s taking Trixie and Maze is out hunting, so you're coming over and we're gonna talk about these nightmares.”

He doesn't want her to stop touching him, but he knows they have a case to work on, and he needs to pull himself together. He breathes her in for a long moment, and then lets her go. She reluctantly pulls away from him, and smiles at how his usually perfect hair is messed up.

He's subdued the rest of the day. Following her around and watching her like he was afraid she'd disappear. He knows that Daniel is walking on eggshells around him and he knows that Chloe told Ella that hugs are a bad idea right now. He's grateful, but he doubts he’d even react to anyone's touch, except the Detective's. The case would be interesting if he could focus on it, and he hopes tomorrow he can.

When they've hit their dead ends, the Detective leads him to her car. She tells him that she's taking him to Lux so he can pack some “comfy clothes” and toiletries. She goes up to the penthouse with him, but he doesn't let her walk past the piano. Glass still covers the floor after all. 

Moments later, they're back in the elevator and Lucifer can't quite help himself any longer and reaches out to her. He lets his fingers brush hers, the ghost of his fingers more than actual contact, but she immediately surrenders her hand to him. He can hardly breathe, but he doesn't dare let go of her hand.

She lets him hold her hand until they reach her apartment. She unlocks the door and pushes him towards the stairs. He hesitates, clutching his bag tightly and staring at her, he feels lost without her. She tells him to shower, and come back downstairs when he's done. When he doesn't move she smiles softly, sadly at him and gives him a little nudge towards the stairs again.

“It's just for ten minutes, Lucifer,” she tells him, hand resting between his shoulder blades. “I'm just making something for us to eat, okay?”

He nods and makes quick work of the stairs. He goes into her room to shower, and knows he won't be longer than the time she allotted to him. He knows it wasn't an order, but he treats it like one, otherwise he'd collapse under the water and never emerge. 

It's only seven minutes later that he's back downstairs. He's in sweatpants and a cotton shirt, and he stops short when he sees her. Her back is to him and his breath catches so loudly that she turns and smiles at him. She beckons him closer and hands him a sandwich. When he just stares at it, she tells him to eat it. He takes a few bites and he knows that he can't do better than that. He tells her so and she tells him that it's okay and leads him over to the couch. 

She sits him down and lowers herself down next to him. She's sitting much closer to him than she usually would but he won't allow himself to touch her. She was divine and perfect and if he touched her, he would ruin her like the monster he was. 

She placed a hand on his face and he couldn't help the shudder that ran through him. “Lucifer, is this okay?” she asked softly, and he shuddered harder in response. She pulled her hand away and he made a distressed sound in the back of his throat. “Lucifer, I need you to tell me if I can touch you,” she said softly. She was worried, he could tell by how her voice sounded. 

“I-” he started, but couldn't quite finish. His breath left him in a rush and he flinched when his phone rang. He picked it up, knowing if he didn't answer he would never hear the end of it. Chloe tries to get up and give him some privacy, but he grabs her hand before she can rise. “Mum,” he answers numbly and Chloe stares at him in shock. 

She starts in on him asking where he is and why he's not home and how his penthouse became such a mess. He closes his eyes tiredly and strokes his thumb reverently across the Detective's knuckles and lets his mother go on until she's mostly run out of steam, and tells her, “I'm not coming home tonight, mum.”

“And why not?” his mother asks. “We have important things to do, Lucifer, your brother and I need you!”

He sighs deeply, “Not tonight…” 

“Yes, tonight!” his mother rages through the phone. He winces and Chloe, the Detective, he reminds himself, always the Detective, brings her other hand to rest on his forearm. “We need to get back home! You will help us now!” 

His mother is so very angry and he's just tired, exhausted and broken, and the Detective is sitting so close to him he can feel the heat of her. He knows he’s trembling but he doesn't let go of her hand. “No, mother, not tonight,” he says. 

“You're useless!” His mother screeches, he winces like he hadn't already known that. “You're not worthy to be your father's son! That's why he let you fall, why he let you burn!”

“Yes, I know,” Lucifer says, numb and tired, and he hangs up the phone, turning it off. 

Chloe stares at him in shock, and he can't quite meet her eyes. He’s not worthy of her presence but he was far too selfish to pull away. 

“How can she…” she starts, shocked and horrified, though he can't for the life of him figure out why. “She's your mother!” she exclaims. He nods watching his thumb stroke her hand. “How could she say that to you?” she asks, pulling her hand out of his and resting it on his face. 

He gasps at the contact and finally meets her eyes for the first time that day. “She's my mother, Detective,” he says softly, looking away again, throat tight, and he doesn't quite know what to do with himself right now.

“That doesn't give her the right,” she tells him, “and that definitely doesn't make it true!” She sounds so sure of herself that he can't help but meet her eyes. His breath leaves him in a rush and he gives in to his need to be closer to her. He pulls her into his lap, and one of her hands cards into his hair, while the other rests across his shoulders. After a long moment of his quiet shuddering, she asks, “Is she always like that?” 

He scoffs, “When she's not ignoring my existence entirely.” He nuzzles his head tighter into the space under her chin. 

She can feel him shuddering non-stop against her and she can't quite figure out why he's reacting to her touch like this. “I know you're not big on hugs,” she starts gently, “but you're usually a little less shaky during them…” 

He huffs a laugh and leans back, the Detective shifts so she's sitting across his lap and not straddling him. She leans her head on his chest and wraps an arm across his middle while the other winds behind him, her hand settling on his shoulder, gripping the fabric of his shirt. “Touch was never pleasant when I was… well, growing up, I suppose you could say. Not that it ever really happened, but when it did…” he sighs heavily here, like he didn't want to continue, but then Chloe shifts like she's trying to move away from him, and he clutches her tighter, and he hears a whine in the back of his throat. “Don't, please,” he asks softly and raw, like he had the first time she saw his back and she responds the same way, a soft 'okay’ and settles into him again. He clears his throat and continues, shudders wracking his body occasionally, “It was always punishment. Being the favorite was… the expectations alone were staggering… nothing I ever did was enough. He punished me for every little mistake, every tiny thing I ever did wrong, every question I ever asked... And they were all jealous of me, of the attention I was given!” He rages bitterly, every line of his body rigid, but his hands on the Detective gentle as they've always been, and the thought that he might hurt her makes him calm himself. “I don't know if you’ve ever noticed, but Amenadiel never reacts to touch like I do…” She nods and when her hand at his side moves against him, he shudders so hard she pulls away to look at him. His head is thrown back and his eyes are closed, he looks relaxed under her touch, so she settles against his chest again. “Father never punished any of them. Only me, because I was the favorite… the Morning Star. And mother never did anything about it. Just let it happen, watched sometimes... None of them understood… Amenadiel always looks at me funny when I flinch away from her.”

Chloe can't help but ask, “She keeps touching you?” He hums his assent and she cuddles deeper into him, enjoying how his voice rumbles through his chest. “Why can't you just explain it to him? That she makes you uncomfortable? Maybe he’d help?”

He scoffs, “No, he'd tell me that I can't possibly be right. He's my older brother, Detective, and according to him, he's never wrong.”

“You've talked to him about it before?” she sighs, upset for him.

He nods and shifts them on the couch so they're lying down, her on top of him and with her head on his chest, she looks down towards their feet, and she takes a long moment to marvel at how tall he is. “Thinks I made it up,” he rumbles. 

“Can I punch them both in the face?” she asks, absently tracing patterns on his chest. He laughs softly and she smiles as it rumbles through his chest. They're silent for a long time, just enjoying each other, until Chloe has to ask, “Lucifer, do you want to talk about your nightmares?”

He sighs, like she's handed him a dirty tissue, “No, but I suppose you do?”

“You really scared me earlier,” she tells him, the fact that she's not looking at him makes it easier. There's also the fact that he's told her about his mother and his childhood and she really wants to punch his father in the face, like, twenty times. “Not of you,” she says feeling him stiffen, “but for you… I've never seen you look so broken… I… Lucifer, that…”

He sighs, bringing his arm around her more, holding her to him like she was the only reason he was breathing. “I'm truly sorry for frightening you, Detective,” he replies. 

“No, its…” she starts. She doesn't quite know what to say, but she finally settles on, “I just… if that was you after a nightmare, Lucifer… what would happen if I actually-”

He growled, cutting her off abruptly. “No.”

“Lucifer,” she said, softly, stroking his chest soothingly.

“No. I won't allow it,” he tells her, voice firm and wild. She tells him that he can't control who dies, and he shakes his head roughly, “You won't die on my watch, Detective. Not while I'm here, and I have the power to stop it!”

“Lucifer, its okay.” She scratches her nails across the plains of his chest to soothe him and says, “I'd be a mess if you'd died, too… But, Lucifer, if you ever have a nightmare like that again, you call me, ok? I don't want you to hurt yourself; that piece of glass you pulled out of your foot was huge…”

He lets her voice and touch calm him, and promises to call her if he ever has another one that bad. “I can't even remember that happening…” he tells her. “It didn't even hurt until… the lab?” 

She shifts to look him in the eyes, she bites her lip and her brow furrows with worry. “That's what scared me,” she told him. “You didn't even feel it when she stitched you up.”

He blinks. “I have stitches?” he looks past her down at his feet, not sure which one he'd hurt. He doesn't want to cause her more worry so he doesn't ask, but she just raises a brow at him. He sighs and puts a hand on her face, leaning up to place a kiss to her forehead. “Darling, you had your hands on me, how could I feel anything else?” he smirks at her and she rolls her eyes at him. 

She rests her head on his chest again and after a long moment of quiet between them, she asks, “Do you know why it got so bad? Your reaction to your dreams, I mean.”

He hums low in his throat and heaves a sigh, “Not a clue, darling…” His breathing has evened out and he's stopped shaking whenever she so much as shifts to a new position.

“Stress,” Chloe decides for him. He laughs softly, tiredly and asks her how she's certain. She shrugs through a yawn and tells him, “The way you reacted when your mom yelled at you, I think. The fact that she's suddenly in your life again and whatever you went through a few weeks ago, is probably stressing you out a lot more than you think it is.”

He's quiet for a while, his hand absently rubbing her back as he thinks about her words. “You're probably right, Detective,” he sighs. 

“Usually am,” she responds. 

Lucifer chuckles and she smiles at the sound. They lie there for what feels like forever and only a few moments simultaneously. “You should head to bed, darling,” Lucifer mutters quietly.

Chloe shakes her head and burrows closer to him, one of her hands clutching at the fabric of his shirt. “No,” she whines, making him chuckle again. “You're comfy,” she yawns, “keep doing that…” She motions to his hand on her back, until he starts again. She lets out a long breath when he does as he's told, and with a smile on her face she tells him before she falls asleep, “No nightmares tonight.”

His last thought before he drifts off after her is, _‘No, I don't think there will be.’_

**Author's Note:**

> A bit ooc?


End file.
